


Masquerade (on hiatus)

by ketterdam_filth



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Gangs, Guns, M/M, aedion backstory, and the cities are districts of erilea, basically i did this hella confusing thing where Erilea is a city, im dying inside, im so sorry, kyllian appears, sam will die again, samlaena is the cutest, the countries are now gangs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketterdam_filth/pseuds/ketterdam_filth
Summary: Terrasen is still rebuilding after devastating fires wreck the northern quarter.Eyllwe is trying to get back on its feet.No-one knows what happens in Doranelle.Antica doesn't get involved.The Witches are scattered.Adarlan takes, and takes, takes.ΨEveryone's dying a little inside. We paint our faces with smiles to hide the pain, laugh til the blood goes away.  The guns and the drugs don't help as we fall downand downand down.Welcome to Erilea.A Throne of Glass Fanfiction.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Kyllian, Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Sam Cortland/Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Arobynn's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> A note if the names are confusing - Aelin identifies herself as Aelin, but Arobynn gave her an alias, Celaena, and that is what everyone knows her as. Sam doesn't know that she is called Aelin. So, basically, Aelin will be referring to herself as Aelin when it's in her POV, but in Sam's POV, he will call her Celaena. 
> 
> Also, to make things more confusing, I'm not going to write a note to point out a POV change. Hopefully, you should be able to tell. This is what my weird brain is doing. Not my fault. 
> 
> Another thing, I'm not sure how much of the information and technical terms I've used are accurate. 
> 
> Erilea is basically a city, and Adarlan, Terrasen, etc. are the gangs that run it. The city has different districts, a bit like how London and Greater London has Oxford, Cambridge, etc. 
> 
> The districts are named after places in Throne of Glass, e.g. Rifthold. 
> 
> Welcome to my confusing little fic.

Aelin ran down a narrow alleyway, bag thudding against her back, her hair flying free and getting in her eyes. She cursed as she realised that she had run into a dead end. Stupid Sam. Stupid kisses. She didn't even have her gun. Heavy footsteps thundered behind her. She heard the click of safety being taken off the gun, and she turned around slowly, hands in the air. Her dark t-shirt and jeans were frayed from years of use, and her face was peppered with bruises. Her eyes gleamed with challenge. 

"We found Arobynn's girl!" Whoops echoed around the burly man at the front, presumably the leader. Sadistic blue eyes swept over her from above a mask that covered most of his face. 

"I don't know what you mean." Aelin's voice was soft but deadly. She knew what would come next if she didn't get away, and fast. Her daggers were in her boots, but she couldn't reach down without the reassurance of having her gun. In short, she had no other options. She ran fast towards the man at the front, and before he could blink, grabbed his shoulders and propelled herself through a flip that landed her on the other side of the group. 

She ran, breathing in the smell of weed and petrol fumes. She passed a graffiti sign marking the border of Antica's turf, and turned at the next corner so she was running along the border, just outside Antica. She shot past a mailbox in front of a derelict apartment block and grabbed the gun she knew was inside. Antica was mainly peaceful, surprising for a gang, but they kept community guns all through their territory. They had no shortage of them, so they never bothered to lock wherever they put them. It was a miracle some regular school kid hadn't gotten hold of one. 

She felt safer, but kept running, weaving through the dense map of Erilea's streets. She ran into one of Arobynn's old stash houses, cleaned out and abandoned and swung through a tiny window at the back, the glass already broken. She jumped clear of the broken glass on the ground on the other side. Silence surrounded her and she knew she had lost them. She walked back to the Keep, still on high alert. 

She walked into the luxurious high-rise and saw Lysandra in the foyer. The dark-haired beauty whisked past her and said, "Arobynn wants you in his office." She sniffed at Aelin's ragged clothes, and Aelin remembered why she didn't like her. Aelin stepped into the carpet lined lift and pressed the button that would take her to the penthouse. The lift moved up, passing many floors. Aelin couldn't stop her hand twitching at her side. She knew everything about the high-rise was there to intimidate you, from the lavish interior to the elevator moving slowly, frighteningly upwards towards Arobynn. She caught a darker patch on the grey carpet that she hadn't seen before. The carpet had been cleaned, but it was obvious what it was. 

The door opened silently right into the foyer of Arobynn's penthouse. There was no escape. She summoned her swagger and walked right into Arobynn's study, not bothering to knock. She was met with Arobynn, looking at her unsmiling, and Sam, his head hung. Aelin sat down. 

"So. What is it you require, Master?" She plastered a smirk on her face, ignoring her thundering heart. Why was Sam here? 

"What I want to know Celaena, is why you botched that trade with the Skulls trafficking ring." His smooth, perfectly articulated accent filled the room. 

She winced slightly at the alias Arobynn had given her and the memory of her and Sam causing chaos and smuggling the slaves out of the bay. Hopefully, they would end up in Eyllwe or Antica territory. 

"I did it. Why is Sam here?" She dodged the question but asked what she really needed to know.

"I sent you on a two-person job. The whole thing failed, therefore it must be the fault of those two people."

He rose and stalked towards Aelin. "And what took you so long to get back? Sam got here well before you. Don't you go to the same school?" Each question was a trap. 

"I got held up," she said stiffly. 

"A group found you? Disappointing. Why'd I waste so much fucking money on you, huh? Answer me!" His voice rose to a roar and he gripped Aelin's throat. Sam started forward in his seat, but Aelin shook her head at him. "They didn't use you for a warning though, did they? You aren't that useless."

Arobynn's fist slammed into her face. Again. And again. She felt her legs being knocked out from under her, a crippling blow to her gut. She heard shouting in the background before spots invaded her vision and she collapsed. 

*

She woke up to her soft bed and Sam's hand holding hers. She squeezed, and his eyes instantly shot to hers. 

"Celaena," his relief was immense. She sat up, and he clasped her to his chest. His face was covered in bruises, but it was nothing to what she imagined her face looked like. She breathed in his smell, and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Celaena Sardothien never cried. She kissed Sam once, twice and got up. He started to protest but she silenced him with a look. 

"We're leaving." 

Sam knew she didn't mean for a simple outing or a job. 

"Leave your stuff."

* 

Celaena held Sam's hand tightly in hers as they walked through Rifthold, the district sprawled in the middle of Erilea. She walked into a warehouse and climbed the stairs to a corridor. Walking to the end she pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. She pulled Sam inside and locked the door, sliding four bolts across the door. She couldn't spare money for a more advanced security system. Installing it would raise questions, anyway. 

"Welcome to my humble abode." She spread her arms with a flourish, "I bought it last year."

Sam looked around, openmouthed. It was actually... nice. It wasn't too rundown, maybe there were a few water stains on the walls, but on the whole, it was pretty good. It was just so Celaena - there was an ornamental clock and shelves and shelves of books above a comfortable couch. There was a door leading into what he assumed was a bedroom.

"It's perfect," he breathed. And it must have been really fucking expensive. 

As if reading his mind, Celaena said, "I got a whole load of money from the Master of the Silencers, when I was on that job in Eyllwe. I saved his life, and his son's. I bought this, and with the rest of the money, I'm buying our freedom."

She said it so simply, but Sam knew it would never be that simple. He'd never just get to stay in their cosy little apartment, holding Celaena in his arms without his eyes darting to the window, searching for danger. They'd never get to just walk down Rifthold's main streets without the danger of assassination following behind them. They could never just be an ordinary boy and girl without the threat of Arobynn hanging over them. He knew that Arobynn would pull threads, call in favours, lie and guilt-trip. They'd never be free.


	2. Sticks and Stones

Elide clutched her bag straps tightly as she walked past the school gates. She walked slowly, her foot dragging against the ground as she made her way back to her uncle's house. They lived in Ferian, where it was The Witches who ran the works. She often saw the heir in her school, with her ice-white hair and her icier personality. Manon Blackbeak was terrifying. She saw the Thirteen outside the gates after school every day, watching the surroundings like hawks. She saw them grab teenagers by the neck, take their bags and fish out the packets of white powder inside. She saw them tuck the packets into their own pockets. 

Elide opened the door to the apartment building the sky was already darkening. She sighed when she saw the concrete stairs in front of her. It took her the better part of ten minutes to get to the apartment on the third floor. She opened the door and was faced with her uncle slumped on the sofa facing the TV, remote in one hand and too-expensive wine bottle in the other. She shuffled to her room, making as little noise as possible and shut the door, gripping the handle and leaning against it as if her slight body could bar her uncle from entering with his bottle later. The wounds on her arms from last time still hadn't healed. It made wearing those long-sleeved t-shirts uncomfortable to the point of pain. She lay in her bed, weary of the world, of the lessons she couldn't complete, the friends she didn't have, the uncle she couldn't escape from. She fell asleep without realising it. 

She woke up to light on her face, and her alarm clock beeping beside her. It was half-past nine already. She must have slept through her alarm. 

Her uncle had not. He stormed into the room. Her chest constricted for a painful moment and her breathing turned shallow. 

"Turn the bloody thing off!" he roared, and swung the bottle still clutched in his hand from the previous night at Elide's head. She ducked, and he stumbled, still hungover and squinting from the bright light that filled the room. He leered at her and stumbled out of the room, passing out once more on the stained couch. 

Elide dressed, as quickly and quietly as possible and slipped out of the front door, ignoring the stabbing pains in her ankle. She walked to school and went to reception. She couldn't remember who the lady was at the front desk, but luckily, after seeing Elide's worn expression and the lumps from bandages sticking out slightly on her arm, she asked no questions. 

The teacher barely noticed when she finally entered the classroom, giving her a dismissive flick of her hand. It was halfway through her senior year, and there was only half the number of students as to when she had started. That is, not many. Kids started dropping out from her school to join Adarlan as early as thirteen, but if they had family in the gang they had a choice of whether they wanted to stay or not. They usually ditched. The rest of her class looked like her - worn and tired. Holding out against Adarlan, or The Witches had consequences. Consequences usually bestowed by Manon Blackbeak and her Thirteen. She was lucky because her uncle had somehow secured a high-up position within Adarlan, and because of the alliance between Adarlan and The Witches, an apartment in a better part of Ferian. She had only been able to start school the year before - when her uncle stopped caring about what she did, but she still couldn't read, couldn't write, couldn't do anything remotely useful. 

The day dragged on until she could leave. Life stretched ahead of her like that - days bland and repetitive, on and on and on with no direction, no purpose. 

"Why the long face?"

Elide gasped and whipped around, hand raised in a defensive position even she had no idea what to do if she was attacked. She was met by a blonde with a wicked grin slashed across her face and eyes that promised violence. Asterin Blackbeak, second of the Thirteen, the most formidable coven with The Witches. 

"What's up, Lochan?"

Elide shook her head, hands back at her sides, clenched tightly in her fists. She could take whatever Asterin did to her. 

"God, stop looking at me like I'm going to kill you."

Elide arched an eyebrow, a small act of defiance.

"Okay, let's get something straight. I don't kill people who haven't done anything wrong. Cause a bit of a permanent injury, yes, but killed, no. And as far as I can tell, you got enough of a permanent injury to be dealing with anyway. Now are you going to talk, or am I rambling to myself for the rest of the walk back?"

Mustering up whatever weak, quivering scraps of courage she had left, Elide said, "what walk back?"

"Come on, I've seen you walking back to your uncle's place. Super slow. It gets dark fast this time of year, and I'm not going to bury your dead body if I can help it. So. Let's get going."

Elide wondered if her uncle had pissed off the Blackbeak Matron, and she had set Asterin up to do this. Maybe Manon decided it would be fun to toy with the thin, sickly girl who walked like she was dragging the weight of the world with her. Maybe Asterin decided she wanted some fun. Elide could see the gleaming metal of a knife in her scuffed boots, and her hand straying to a holster at her side every few minutes. Maybe Asterin was going to kill her. 

The two of them walked back to the apartment, Elide careful to stay on the other side of the sidewalk to her. Asterin talked on about the Thirteen as they walked, Elide catching on parts that made terrified and wondering what on the Gods' rutting earth she was doing walking down an empty street with minimal lighting, with the second of the Thirteen.


	3. Swagger

Aedion and Kyllian, his second, were standing on a street corner. A fucking shady street corner. Someone had been selling low-grade marijuana for 20 silvers, labelling it as high-grade. How no-one had noticed was unbelievable. The King wanted it shut down. It was driving away their customers, even the regulars. It was Adarlan property, and the building they were standing outside was an old trap house. Only, someone had taken down the shoes hanging from the telephone wire running above and reopened the trap house. There had been reports of frequent stop-enter-leave traffic patterns, and a woman coming out to talk to people who paused their cars in front of the building. That was all they had to go on and the word of one of their regulars who was nearly almost high rarely made sense. Only, he had been right this time. There was a white packet on the windowsill. And there was a strong smell of weed. The trap house had been shut down over a year ago, and if it had been left alone the smell would have long gone. Aedion nodded at Kyllian and the two of them walked in guns raised. 

Adarlan used high-rank soldiers for drug busts and younger soldiers drive-by shootings and walk-up assassinations. They were low skill and required almost no training apart from how to use a gun. Younger soldiers were better for them anyway, because they were so damn eager to prove themselves they didn't care who they were killing. Aedion hated it because once he was the same when he was in Terrasen. So eager to prove himself, until he had taken part in his first war. 

It was after Terrasen's downfall, he was 14 and what remained of Terrasen were fighting against Adarlan for Theralis. They lost, but Aedion was offered membership with Adarlan. He had nowhere else to go. Theralis was still scorched from the fires, and there was no real reason for Adarlan to want it other than pride. It was bloody, and Adarlan had managed to equip two of its soldiers with automatic rifles. It was a massacre. Even now, Adarlan had equipped most high ranking members with semiautomatic rifles. Lower rank soldiers had handguns, but slightly more old-fashioned ones. 

Aedion caught a flicker of movement within the building. They walked towards it. A woman was running out through a back door. They followed chase, but she disappeared. There was no point in going after her. Without more soldiers, they would never find her. They raided the stocks and stuffed the packages into the rucksack Kyllian had left by the door. 

A burner phone vibrated in Aedion's pocket. He opened it. He jerked his head Kyllian. 

"The King wants us back for a job."

*

Aedion stood in front of The King. 

"What do we need to do?"'

The King's face was impassive. "Rebels are hiding in the Northern Quarter. I want them eliminated."

The Bane could stage this. The Northern Quarter was mostly uninhabited, and Adarlan didn't bother posting soldiers there. It would be easy. Whoever was hiding, they could get them to Antica, or maybe Eyllwe would take them in. Most of the Bane's battles were staged. Half of them, including Aedion, were rebels from the Northern Quarter, Banjali and Bellhaven. The other half was born and raised on Adarlan turf but were sympathisers. Usually, they had jobs near where Adarlan soldiers were stationed. This made staging jobs harder. This would be easy, though.

"Perrington will be going with you."

Shock raced through Aedion's body. Pulling it off would be near impossible. Why was Perrington coming on their job? 

Aedion plastered a lazy grin on his face. "Can I ask why?"

"No." 

Aedion left the room, mind racing. He pulled out the burner. 

Strategy meeting in five, usual place

*

Soon Kyllian, and four of his captains, including the one he once served under, Elgan, were standing on a rooftop in an abandoned neighbourhood. 

"We can't stage this one. Perrington, Gods know why, is coming on our job. I don't know who exactly these rebels are, but there aren't many of them."

One of the captains, similar to Aedion's age, said, "Is there no way we can save them?"

Kyllian shook his head. "It's them or us. We're the only legion who does this, we need to stay alive so we keep doing it."

Aedion hated to admitted it. "He's right. The best we can do is try and prove their innocence. We enter, make them surrender, try to show Perrington that they are innocent. It's worth a try."

*

They worked in groups of six, one for each trailer in the rundown trailer park. The trailers were small and rusted, with smashed windows and broken door. Three trailers were being used, the only ones with doors still intact. Perrington was with Aedion and Kyllian. There were two captains in each of the other two groups. Aedion kicked the door down and they entered. 

"Adarlan Legion 3, hands up!"

They pointed their guns at them. "Why are you here and you are you with?"

There were two girls, blondes maybe a few years younger than him, a man in a wheelchair, and a baby on his lap. One of the girls stepped forward.

"We mean no harm. We were displaced after the fires so we stayed here."

Aedion lowered his gun slightly. He turned to one of the soldiers behind him. "Search the trailer."

The trailer was so small it was only a matter of minutes. She shook her head."It's clean."

Aedion gave the order to stand down. The man's face sagged. 

Perrington smirked. He produced a white packet. Aedion's heart sank.

"If they mean no harm, why are they in possession of Class A drugs? Possession with intent to distribute? Kill them."

The soldier who had searched the apartment stood next to him. 

"You checked the whole trailer? Everything?" Aedion asked her in a low voice. 

"Everything. It's all clean."

Aedion saw red. Suddenly the blonde in front of him was Aelin, his cousin, his sister. He turned on Perrington. 

"Since when were you the fucking police? Since when did Adarlan kill anyone in possession of drugs?"

"Since distributing drugs was disallowed." Perrington had a sick smile on his face. 

"Adarlan owns half the fucking trap houses in Erilea."

"Adarlan has a permit. These are Terrasen trash. They don't even have a membership with Adarlan."

"This is unbelievable." Aedion levelled his gun at him. "Stand. Down."

Aedion heard three soft whooshes. Perrington's grin grew wider. Aedion whirled around to see Kyllian with his gun pointed at the baby. He always kept a silencer on his gun. 

"No!"

It was too late. 

Kyllian shook his head. "We're done here. The other two groups are already done."

They exited the trailer, walking towards where they had parked the cars. Aedion rushed up to where Kyllian was. 

"You -"

"We already agreed we shouldn't do anything. Perrington clearly planted the drugs. If we act against him now, there's no point. They would have died anyway and we would have gone down with them."

"It's all about the self-preservation with you, isn't it?" Aedion spat.

"Yes, it is. We all want to help, make the world a better place, but we don't want to die for a hopeless cause before we can achieve that." 

Aedion hated how calm Kyllian sounded, even though he was only a few years older."

"Gods-"

Kyllian grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "This is becoming too personal for you. You need to take a step back. You can't let every job turn into a mission to avenge your family."

Aedion hated that his words were right. He hated that he let himself sink into Kyllians grasp, just a little. 

"You're our general. Act like it."

* 

Aedion stood in front of the rust-spotted mirror in the bathroom of his dingy little apartment. There were bags under his eyes and his face looked older than his years. He sighed and leaned against the sink. He fished out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Only one was missing. He took out another and held it between his lips. He flicked open his lighter and held it to the cigarette. He breathed in the fumes. He blew, the smoke spiralling upwards. He took a deep drag. 

He loved it. He loved how destructive it was. He loved how the smoke and choking feeling reminded him of his family. He'd never forget the fires. He loved how the flames of his lighter were like the spark in Aelin's eyes. The tight feeling in his chest was like a hug from an old friend. The headache took his mind away from the trailer park. 

He finished the cigarette and extinguished the stub on the rim of the sink. He tossed it into the toilet. He flicked open the lighter. He stayed there watching the dancing and writhing of the flames. For how long he stood there, hypnotised, he didn't know. They were beautiful. The reds and blues and oranges, jumping and spinning. The warmth radiating from the tiny bead of fire. He brought it near the inside of his forearm. It would be so easy. To just bring the fire to his skin, let it stay there for a while. Let it cleanse away the blood and death on his skin, let it take a little part of him. He had lost everything to fire. Why not lose a bit more? The flame flickered. He could feel the heat on his skin. Could remember the taste of smoke on his tongue, the walls burning down around him, the roaring of the flames, drowning out the screams of his friends and family. He let it take him to that dark place, where he could see his mother's kind face, his aunt and uncle treating him like their own. Aelin playing with him, him chasing her around the house. The blood pact they made in foolish childishness, promising to serve and protect Terrasen forever, to protect each other. How he would never see her again. Never see his mother or his uncle or his aunt or his friends. He was a survivor. And he was utterly alone. 

The flame guttered and went out. 

* 

Kyllian stopped by Aedion's apartment, to see how his friend was doing. The bathroom door was open. He saw a man barely into adulthood, shoulders caved in and head down, tears dripping down onto a lighter held in his open palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aedion kind of only seemed to exist for Aelin and I think he's a bit shallow, so I wanted to give him a backstory where he doesn't know Aelin is alive.


	4. Boxes

Elide walked out of the school gates and waited on the opposite sidewalk as she had done for the past two weeks. This time, there was no Thirteen keeping vigil in front of the gates. Still. She waited five more minutes for Asterin. She still was scared shitless by the Witch, but her gun and her knives made walking the dark streets of Ferian feel safer. It was safer. Five minutes turned into ten, and Elide knew she had to leave. The sky was darkening and she should have been halfway back to the apartment by now. She started walking. 

Elide slipped her key in the lock and nudged the door open. She saw the Thirteen lounging in the living room and stopped short. 

"What are you doing here?" Manon's voice cut through the air.

"I live here," Elide looked down at her shoes. 

"No, you don't. Your rat of an uncle fucked up and now we get his apartment. Pretty sweet, hey?" Manon held up her gun as if she was toasting, and the rest of the Thirteen whooped, tapping the barrels of their guns together. She saw Asterin give her an apologetic look out of the corner of her eyes. 

"All you're stuff is in a box outside the door," Asterin said, her voice strangely tame. 

"Not much gotta say," Manon crowed. "Off you go then. The box is small, you can get to wherever the hell you're camping out now without Asterin's help."

Elide lifted her chin. Of course, she could. She turned to leave but made sure to keep the key tucked in her pocket. She made to leave when she saw a dark-haired Witch whisper something to Manon. She caught the word key on her lips. Manon shook her head and said louder, "she can keep the key. It's not like she'll come back with us here. Fucking wimp."

Elide walked down the stairs, carrying the pitifully small box in her arms. She was strangely sure-footed. It felt freeing to finally be out of the apartment. Even if she was so free she didn't have anywhere to go next. She could go to Morath, a top-security row of townhouses used by the Witches, but going there terrified her. There would be the three Matrons, most likely a high-rank member of Adarlan and... her uncle. She would normally be overlooked if she went there, but Manon had said that Vernon had done something wrong. Who knows what would happen to her because of it?

She couldn't stay at the school, the gates and doors were always locked after hours. It was surprisingly secure considering the state of a lot of the schools in Erilea. Besides, given that the Thirteen would either be at the school, Morath, her apartment or in an alleyway beating someone up, she needed to stay in a Witch free place. She walked down the street, dodging the leering looks thrown her way. She walked for nearly half an hour, the fear wearing out and the adrenaline rush dying away, leaving her with just the throbbing, dull ache in her ankle. 

It was then that she remembers that the Witches had several abandoned trap houses in Ferian. She recalled one near the school. That was good. The less she had to walk, the better. She couldn't remember the exact location, just vague details of the area around it. There was a symbol of an eye, painted with black and gold spray paint, the colours of the Ironteeth Witches. The Witches were split into two factions, the Ironteeth and the Crochans. The Crochans were rumoured to be less bloodthirsty, but they had died out. There was an old shop next to it with smashed in windows and a board above it, the paint on it faded away. On its other side was some sort of barbershop, with its red and white striped pole. Elide wandered the area around the school, searching for the trap house. She was panting, and her foot dragged more than ever. 

She saw an old man sitting on the pavement. He smiled at her, and it was genuine. It made her feel safe. She took the risk and went to sit next to him. She let out a shaky breath as she sat down. He gave her a concerned look. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Do you live here?" Elide hoped he did. He might be able to tell her where the trap house was. 

"No," he smiled kindly. "I'm waiting for my grandson. He's running an errand in the area. I am from Wendlyn."

Wendyn was an island east of Adarlan. It was a part of Adarlan where Doranelle resided. 

Elide's eyes widened. "You are in Doranelle?"

He smiled wryly. "In a way. I live in a part of Wendlyn that Doranelle has no hold over. However, we are not so close to Varese that Councillor Ashryver has much power."

"Oh." Elide said politely. She didn't know much about Wendlyn. No-one did. It was the only part of Erilea that was not completely run by a gang. Part of Wendlyn, called Varese, even had a Councillor and a police force trying to combat Adarlan. 

"I saw you walking around," he said. "Are you looking for something?"

"Yes, but I'll find it myself."

"I'm sure you will. I wish you the best of luck, but I can see my grandson now. I'll get going."

He hauled himself to his feet and smiled at Elide one more time before walking off. 

Elide realised she had never asked his name. 

She realised that was the first person since Asterin to be kind to her. And he was a complete stranger. She felt a sort of strange, uplifting happiness inside her. She got up, clutched her box in her arms, and set off again. She walked a few blocks before seeing the end of a red and white pole poking out from under a tarpaulin sheet. She turned the corner to see the alleyway it was in. The building next to it had a black eye painted on it.

Cautiously, she walked inside. It was silent, and not too cold. It still smelt slightly, but not enough to give her a headache. She saw a door at the back. There were a bolt and a padlock, but it wasn't locked, and the key was still in the padlock. This was good. She opened the door to see that it opened into a small room, with shelves. The shelves were stocked with food, but the whole house was so dusty it seemed impossible that anyone apart from Elide had been there recently. With a lock and food and intact windows, it was too good to be true. Elide took it anyway. 

She stored her box on one of the shelves and transferred the padlock to the front door. She locked it. She found a tarpaulin folded up on the floor of the storage cupboard and fell asleep under it. 

For the first time in years, nothing troubled her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: a trap house is where people sell drugs. It's named so because it 'traps' people - they keep coming back for more, and it traps their lives. 
> 
> At least I think that's why it's called a trap house.


	5. Cold

Aedion was woken by a soft and hesitant rap on his door. He rubbed his bleary eyes and stumbled to the door. He opened it to a young soldier, no older than fourteen, looking up at him shakily. Aedion sighed through his nose.

"Yes?"

Stumbling over his words, the soldier said, "The King he - The King has requested your presence in the Town Hall."

Aedion nodded at him, and he left, power-walking down the corridor as if he was forcing himself not to run. 

After changing out of his pyjamas, Aedion grabbed a snack bar and tore into it. He walked out of the door still chewing the bar, not bothering to brush his teeth. It wasn't like anyone would be kissing him. 

He entered the Town Hall to be faced with the whole of The King's council. Brilliant. He saw Perrington smirking at him, and Kyllian glowering at him. Great. 

The King spoke. His voice was low and raspy, but he commanded the attention of the room. "Perrington informs me you were complicit in the obstruction of justice yesterday, a serious crime if your second-in-command had not stepped up to do your job."

It was deathly silent. Now a teenager was looking at him with interest. He had black hair and sapphire blue eyes. Aedion knew him to be The King's heir, Dorian Havilliard. Next to him was the captain of the King's Guard, a man who looked about the same age as him. 

"They hadn't committed a crime. How can I be obstructing justice when they hadn't done anything wrong?"

"Well according to Perrington's report, they have been proved to have drugs, with intent to distribute."

Aedion was sick of Adarlan acting like they were just and fair, acting like they were the law when they did far worse things than the trivial allegations they killed people for. 

"I was leading the mission. I should be writing the report."

"Well do you have it with you?"

Aedion lowered his head slightly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He hadn't even written it, as he should have last night, let alone remembered to bring it in with him.

"No."

"Well then, I suppose Perrington's will have to do."

"Yes, your honour."

"This will not happen again, Ashryver. You do not want to make Adarlan your enemy. Especially when we were so kind as to take you in after what happened to Terrasen."

Aedion's blood boiled. Adarlan had set the fires, he knew they had. He just nodded. 

"Perrington, is there anything else we should discuss?"

Perrington looked so smug, Aedion wanted to wipe that smarmy smile off his face. His hands formed tight fists at his sides. 

"No, your honour."

Aedion walked out without waiting to be dismissed. 

Like a flash Perrington was at his side, gripping his shoulder and neck and forcing his head down to the floor. He could easily fight him off. He could easily just shove Perrington off and blow his brains out before any of the Guard knew what was happening. It would be so easy. 

"You bow to your king," Perrington snarled in his ear, before releasing his grip. Aedion bared his teeth slightly and stood up. 

"You should know," added The King, "that one of them survived. Some sort of assassin. Should you continue with your infractions of the law, she will be tortured and killed. If you stay in line, you may take her into the 3rd Legion."

Aedion nodded, bowed stiffly and left the Hall. He decided to see who this assassin was. If she would be useful. 

He deduced that she would be in the holding cells, and probably the higher security ones for more valuable prisoners, as she would be used against him. He took a cab to where that building was located. He stopped at the front desk and saw a man he knew to be part of the King's Guard. 

"Was a woman brought in from the Northern Quarter yesterday? She probably has a gunshot wound."

Even with the vague description, the guard nodded and started walking down a brightly lit corridor. He stopped in front of one of the doors and smiled slightly. "Good luck with her. I'll give you a key, so let yourself out and lock the door. Hand the key back at the desk."

With that, he walked back to the front desk. Aedion knew that there would be surveillance monitoring him, which was why the guard was so lax with just giving him the key. He inserted it into the lock and walked in cautiously. Sitting on the end of a cot was a woman with wine-red hair, mahogany eyes and a scowl painted on her face. She was bleeding through a strip of fabric that she had wound around her shoulder, evidently where the bullet had hit. 

"Aedion Ashryver," he said, by way of introduction. 

"Ansel," she said shortly, not providing a surname. Her intonation was rougher than the accent of people from the Northern Quarter. He got straight to the point. He needed to know who she was and what her intent was. "

You aren't from the Northern Quarter. Why were you with the refugees?"

"So you're a sympathizer." She looked at him with sharp eyes. 

Aedion winced, hoping the CCTV wouldn't pick up their words. "What makes you think that?"

"You're the only person calling them refugees and not dealers living illegally in the Northern Quarter." She used her fingers to make quotation marks as she said the word dealers. 

Aedion pressed his point. "Why were you with them?"

"I had a friend who was in Terrasen. I owed it to her." She kept her answers short and confusing.

"You owed it to her to guard a group of old Terrasen members?" Aedion asked, trying to feel out the situation.

"I owe it to her to do what I can for her people like she did for mine."

"I would be careful what you say," Aedion said quietly, trying to get it across to her to keep her damned mouth shut about Terrasen. They'd probably both get killed if anything in their words even suggested helping Terrasen. 

Her mouth slanted into a grin. "I'm stuck here, aren't I? I almost got killed and ended up being a pretty shitty protector of the people who were. I don't think I have much outside that I'm bursting to get out of prison for."

Aedion found himself saying, "if we find that you can be useful, The King will place you in my legion, the 3rd Legion."

Ansel snorted. "Gods, I find it hilarious how you Adarlan folks talk like you're all high and mighty Roman law-keepers."

I'm not in Adarlan, he wanted to yell, I'm not with those monsters. I belong to Terrasen. 

He didn't of course. He didn't say anything. He left the cell, dropped the keys unceremoniously on the front desk and walked out. He had planned to stay longer, but he didn't see they use once he had met her. She was about as co-operative as a brick wall. He didn't know if she'd even be much of an asset to the Bane. 

He didn't bother calling a cab because he only had two silvers in his pocket. Instead, he began the walk back to his apartment. It was still the morning, not even noon, but it was cloudy. The clouds stretched as far as he could see, so thick that there weren't any gaps to see the sun through. It was windy, and although he wore a bulletproof vest under his t-shirt, he felt cold. 

Aedion shivered as he made the trek back to his apartment. He should have woken up earlier. He had been in no way prepared for this slightly more dismal than average day. His pockets only had fifteen silvers when he'd left, and he'd spent most of them on that cab ride to the holding cells. Perrington and The King were on his trail, Kyllian was pissed at him for some reason, a random lady was being used to keep Aedion in line, and his conversation with the said lady in the holding cells would probably be used to throw him jail should Perrington or The King ever want him out of way. On top of that, Perrington's report would be used for killings yesterday because he'd been too busy crying in his bathroom to write it, which meant those families would probably never get justice. Great day, Aedion. 

"What's got you so down?"

Aedion turned his head so fast he got whiplash and saw a dark-skinned man with long braids of black hair walking next to him.

"Kyllian," he said, rubbing his neck. "I didn't see you."

"So?" Kyllian prompted, referring to the question he had asked. 

"Just this shitty day that's been shittier than most shitty days," Aedion sighed. "Also I'm freezing my ass off."

Kyllian rolled his eyes. "You're wearing a t-shirt Ashryver, what were you expecting?" He wrapped an arm around Aedion and tugged him into his side. "C'mere. We can't have your slightly better than average ass freezing off, can we?"

Aedion grumbled protests while fighting back a furious blush. He was General of the most respected Adarlan legion, for gods' sake! And here Kyllian was, making him blush like some schoolboy. 

"Wow. You are freezing," Kyllian remarked. 

"Guess being as hot as I am doesn't always help when it's windy outside," Aedion joked. 

"Yeah, that's why you've got an even better looking second-in-command," said Kyllian, playing along, "to keep you warm and give you cuddles."

Aedion snorted. "I don't think even you could beat this," he said, gesturing to his body.

"Huh. I always suspected you were delusional. While your ass is decent, the rest of you is... mediocre."

Was Kyllian flirting with him? Aedion pushed into the far, far, back corner of his mind. 

"Kyllian." 

Kyllian looked at him, as if to say, go on.

"Why did you look so pissed at me this morning?"

"While this may be hard to believe, blondie," he said ruffling Aedion's hair, "the world doesn't revolve around you. I was pissed at Perrington. You just happened to be in the way of my death-stare."

"You have a death stare? How old are you, nine?"

"I'll have you know, Ashryver, that I'm twenty-five, and most likely younger than you."

"I'm twenty-two," said Aedion quietly. 

"Being General ages you, huh?"

"Well, at least I still look like I'm in my twenties. You, however..." Aedion shook his head jokingly. "I can see the grey hair coming through already."

"That's because I spend my life looking after you and stopping you from making stupid decisions. Apparently, the fires took away your sense of self-preservation."

Aedion flinched. He was reminded of their conversation from the previous night. Yeah, he thought, I guess the fires did take away my self-preservation, along with my family, my friends, and everything I loved. 

Kyllian sighed. Out of the two of them, Kyllian was the more patient one, but when it was just the two, it was like all that patience melted away. They got along fine until Aedion started shutting down. It had been nine years and he still hadn't gotten over it. 

Was he supposed to have gotten over it? After nine years was he supposed to able to joke about the fires, think about his family, about Terrasen without breaking down? Should his family be taking over every damn thought he had? Should he be able to look at a young girl and not hear his cousin's screams? See a group of men his age and not think about the friends he'd lost?

Because Aedion didn't have a single fucking clue why couldn't just get over it. 

Neither Kyllian nor Aedion spoke on the way back to the apartment block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of Aedion. Somehow this fic is turning out to be more about Aedion and Elide than Aelin. I don't know. I just don't like writing Aelin I guess. For some reason writing Aedion is easier for me. Probably because his backstory is kinda vague so there isn't that much to keep in canon with. Basically I can do whatever the hell I like.


	6. Bandages

Celaena and Sam were running across the rooftops of Rifthold. It was for no particular reason really, just that the sun was shining and Sam was with her. They'd just killed a man, but Celaena couldn't stop a wild grin from spreading across her face. Sam glanced at her and he grinned too. They were on the way back to collect the money they were owed for the job. They made their way down to street level as they neared the agreed-upon meet-up spot. As they approached the parking lot, Celaena sensed a lurking presence behind her she whirled around, and before the man could do anything, shot him in the thigh. Nothing that would kill him. Probably. Sam had his gun levelled at the man writhing on the floor. 

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Who hired you?"

"They'll kill you, Cortland. You're dead." The man whispered the last word with venom, then passed out from the blood loss. 

Looking at the parking lot, it was empty. There was no point in waiting around, clearly, they weren't going to be receiving the money. At least it was only a simple, low-paying job. They hadn't lost much. 

Celaena directed an accusing finger at Sam. "Who was he?"

"I don't know. He was probably hired," Sam took a deep breath, "by someone from the Pits."

"And why would they want you dead?" Celaena snarled. She already knew the answer. How could he be going behind her back? The Pits were one of the most dangerous places in Adarlan territory. 

"Clients have been paying me to take out fighters they deem a threat. It's made me a few enemies." He was so calm as he said this. Celaena couldn't believe that he was so nonchalant about it. 

She whacked him, hard. "You could've been killed!"

Sam grinned. "I wasn't though, was I? And I've got you to keep me safe."

"And if I'm not there?" She wanted to smack the grin off his face. She stormed ahead of him. 

"Celaena -"

The Pits were dangerous. They were underground fighting arenas, and people from all over Erilea came there for both business and pleasure. It was where many crime bosses, including Arobynn, met with their clients. People were killed there every day, and the whole place reeked of blood and piss. It was also the site of Adarlan's largest trafficking ring, Endovier. All kinds of people, from gangs that Adarlan had wiped out, like Eyllwe and Terrasen, were captured and sold off there. The slaves she and Sam had freed were going to be sent there. 

The most dangerous place in Adarlan territory and Sam just didn't care. 

*

About a week after the incident, Sam asked her if she wanted to go on a date. They were lying in bed, had just woken up, Celaena tucked into Sam's side. She agreed. Sam said that they'd go in the evening. 

At seven o'clock, Sam knocked on their bedroom door. Celaena had finished getting ready, and was in a beautiful, flowing turquoise dress. She slipped on a pair of heels and opened it. He was wearing a button-down shirt and slacks, and his hair was ruffled as always. He looked down at her with shining eyes and a crooked grin. 

"You look beautiful," he said, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

"I know," she smirked. 

Sam offered her a bouquet. There were all kinds of flowers of vibrant reds, oranges and yellows. Celaena had no idea where he got them from, but they were beautiful. She put them in a vase and pulled Sam's head down for a kiss. 

"Thank you,"

Together they left the apartment. They didn't walk for long, only a few minutes until they stopped outside a diner. It was rundown and on the small side, but nothing could ruin her good mood. 

"The restaurant awaits, milady," Sam said, opening the door for her. 

She smiled and walked in. They got curious looks from the other people there, who were just in t-shirts or casual clothes. Celaena ignored them and sat down in a booth, tugging Sam with her. They sat opposite each other as if they were in a fancy restaurant. There weren't any menus, just the poorly lit sign above the counter. A waiter came up to them.

Without even looking at the sign, Celana ordered two hamburgers and two Cokes and waved the waiter off. 

"Our very own waiter! Fancy,"

"Only the best for you," Sam said, his brown eyes twinkling. 

They waited for their food when Sam spoke up. "Let's play twenty questions,"

"Seriously?" Celaena laughed. 

"Yeah," he insisted, "I know nothing about you."

"Not true," Celaena said because she could tell where the conversation would be going. She didn't want to talk about her family, and she didn't want to lie to Sam. "You know all my favourite foods."

"True, but I don't know where you come from, your backstory. You know mine."

"What's there to tell?" she laughed, "oh look, our food's here."

Sam gave her a look, telling her he knew she was avoiding the conversation, but let it go. Instead, they talked about the crazy adventures they'd had. 

"You know that smallish gang, Xandria?"

"Yeah?"

"I made a friend when I was training with the Silencers. She and I stole both of the leader's Lamborghinis. I named the one I took Kasida."

Celaena grinned as Sam burst out laughing. "You did not!"

Two hamburgers on greasy plates were placed in front of them. 

"I see our food has arrived," said Celaena primly, and she took a delicate bite. Her face twisted at the same time as Sam's. 

"What did they put in it?" Sam whispered. He was always like that, not wanting to offend. It was kind of cute. 

"Well, I think we can agree that this is a delicious morsel," Celaena said, "but we may regret eating it later on." She promptly dropped the burger back onto the plate. Sam did the same. They opened their cans of Coke. No hiss came. Sam cautiously took a sip. It was flat. He shrugged and held his can towards Celaena. 

"To many more great dates like this one."

Celaena linked her can against his and they both drank deeply. She winced. 

"Is this even Coke?"

A corner of Sam's mouth lifted slightly. He kissed the back of her hand.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked, standing up.

"Yes!" 

Sam fished a few silvers out of his pocket, dropped them on the table and they both ran out of the diner holding hands. 

As soon as they were out on the street, Celaena groaned. 

"Ugh," she said, leaning against Sam, "my heels are killing me."

Without warning, Sam swooped her up and started carrying her bridal style as they walked. Celaena's giggles and weak protests echoed down the street. 

"Sam put me down!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Actually, Sam, don't put me down. I'm too lazy to walk." She grinned up at him and pressed herself against Sam's chest, bathing in the warmth. Her dress flapped slightly in the wind and she batted at it feebly with one hand. Sam laughed and kissed her forehead. 

"You can't keep your hands off me, can you?" Celeana smirked. 

"No," Sam said softly, "I can't."

"I like this," said Celaena. "I like just being stupid, silly teenagers. I like just being a regular boy and girl, you and me."

"Me too."

They heard the roaring of an engine and saw a van driving by them. It was on the wrong side of the road. Celaena jumped out of Sam's arms, and in a split second both of them had their guns out and levelled at the people in the van. 

It was a split second too late. A shot rang out and the van zoomed off, kicking up dust behind it. Celaena looked behind her to see Sam collapsed on the floor, clutching his chest. She dropped to the ground beside him and gently lifted his hand to see blood pouring out of a small hole below his heart. The person who shot him was a cheap shot, and that was good. Sam might just survive. 

His breathing was shallow and fast and he looked up at Celaena with eyes dull with pain. 

"It's gonna be okay," she said, "It will be okay." It sounded like she was reassuring herself more than Sam. 

"Sam, we need to get up, I need to get you back to the apartment." Her voice shook as she tried to haul Sam up. He gasped with pain and shook his head at her. He was too injured to move. 

"Sam, we need to go. We need to go!" Celaena's voice rose with desperation. Sam didn't say anything, just squinting at her blearily. She tore off the bottom of her dress and pressed it against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. It didn't work. Within seconds the fabric was soaked. The turquoise was stained dark and her hands were covered in bright scarlet blood. Sam's blood. She pressed more fabric against the wound. 

"Help! Help me!" she screamed, panic overtaking her, her voice cracking, pleading to anyone who could hear them. Tears were running down her face. "Help us!"

No-one replied. No-one came. 

Sam's eyes shuttered. 

"No, Sam, no! Gods, you can't close your eyes! You can't!" She sat there, pressing the soaked fabric against the wound, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do, how she could save Sam. She was a killer. She didn't know how to heal, how to help Sam. He clenched his jaw and she could see how hard he was struggling against the pain. The sidewalk beneath them was turning red. 

"Sam, Sam listen to me, okay? It will be okay, we're gonna be okay," she kept repeating it and repeating it like a mantra that would save his life. 

"We can leave, Sam, we can leave Rifthold, leave Erilea. We can move somewhere no-one has ever heard of, Sam, just you and me." 

She voiced both of their dreams in an attempt to keep Sam conscious. His gaze narrowed in on her. His brown eyes locked with hers to battle the pain. 

"We'll find somewhere beautiful with music and art and stars so beautiful you never want the night to pass. You and me. We can make a life there, Sam. No more killing, no more blood."

She was sobbing now, tears running freely down her face. 

"We can, Sam, we can do it. I need you to stay with me. We can buy an apartment near a theatre, so we can always hear music. We can buy a piano, make music of our own."

They both loved music. They both loved the feeling that they could create beautiful things, they could create, not destroy. 

"We can build a family, Sam, a family. Two kids with parents who love them to whatever end. Kids, Sam."

She was whispering, her voice hoarse. "We can have everything we want. Live, Sam. Live, for me. Live! Please."

Sam smiled slightly, though it looked more like a grimace. He shook his head. Celaena's hopes came crashing down. 

"Sam-"

"My name is Sam Cortland and I will not be afraid," he breathed. His eyes unfocused and he reached for her hand. 

"My name is A-" her voice broke. 

"Celaena Sardothien," Sam whispered. "I love you. Don't be afraid."

"No. No," Celaena stumbled over her words. "Aelin. I'm Aelin, Sam."

His eyes had already closed. 

His chest rose and fell one last time. 

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me. I'm sorry it happened so early on, but it had to be done.


End file.
